


The Whole Half Truth

by Nomorebegrieved



Category: Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:10:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9112147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomorebegrieved/pseuds/Nomorebegrieved
Summary: Laura Hollis has worked very hard to be where she is - an up and coming researcher on a popular current affairs television programme.  The next big case to fall across her desk is one of suspected bribery and corruption taking place in a large conglomerate.  Laura has been given the opportunity to do the majority of the fieldwork and interviews, plus being the primary contact for their whistleblower.  But how can she focus on finding out the truth, when Carmilla Karnstein, a senior executive in the company, seems hell bent on hindering and obstructing her every move?  And why is her stupid face so annoying?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> 1: Horizons is loosely based on BBC One’s Panorama. The mention of the scandal into privately owned care homes is real and heartbreaking. My misappropriation of it for the purposes of this is not intended to cause offence in anyway.
> 
> 2: This is set in the UK. I figure it’s hard enough to create a fictional tale without basing it in some sort of reality that I am familiar with... isn’t that the definition of the best type of lie? 
> 
> 3: I fully intend to complete this tale (I know – we hear this all the time, right?). I am not sure how many chapters, but my intent is a weekly posting.
> 
> 4: I like fanfics which have the right amount of ensemble interactions - am going to do my best to get the proportion right, but welcome any suggestions!
> 
> 5: You can find me on http://sparklypersonastarlight.tumblr.com/

The light woke her up. It seeped in under her eyelids, chasing away the dream she’d been having, and swiftly unravelled it into cosmic vapour even as she inwardly groaned – _why the hell did she have to wake up during the best bit?_   Not that she could remember any of the details, she never did remember her dreams – but she always, always remembered how she _felt_ during them. A good dream equalled a good mood resulting in a good day.   Generally speaking anyway.

A bad dream meant predictably feeling tired, restless, and uneasy, with a distinct unwillingness to engage in social niceties until something snapped her out of it. Like chocolate chip cookies. A bunch of ‘em. Preferably accompanied by a hot chocolate (but no marshmallows, ewww – far too sweet).  These sorts of days tended to be known as stay-at-home-and-order-takeaway days. Or don’t-bother-getting-out-of-my-pyjamas days.

Today though, felt like a good day. Thank the Holly and the Ivy heavens. Scrunching her face up, Laura Hollis smacked her right arm over her face. A little too enthusiastically.

“Oof!” She adjusted her arm, twitched her nose and sighed. “Idiot.”

Rolling over to her right side, she hauled herself upright and squinted across to her bedside table. 7.32am blinked back at her in yellow light from her clock. Early, but not too early…

Laura shuffled her feet across her bedroom, down the cool hallway, towards the kitchen, where she grabbed the kettle and shoved it under the tap to fill it up. It was quiet, other than the kettle’s crescendo, the faint click that signalled the heating coming on and the radiators straining into life. She yawned and carefully stretched out her neck from side to side, hoping to loosen up the muscles before she did any damage doing something trivial, such as washing her hair.

The last four months had been tough and incredibly stressful. Helping to research and write that expose on the neglectful treatment of patients at privately run residential care homes was emotionally and physically draining. She really wanted to pour her heart and soul into it though, and she was beyond grateful that it had totally paid off. Elizabeth (Liz) Cochrane, the main investigator on the scandal, not to mention her mentor and boss – had credited her to everyone connected with the escalating media coverage.

Laura was too exhausted to do anything other than smile and slump with relief during each preview of the filmed footage, which included clips of whistleblower interviews, plus surprise confrontations with the care home owners. The worst footage to watch in her opinion though, was always of the secret surveillance conducted in patient rooms (with their relatives consent), and the reactions of the relatives once the surveillance confirmed their worst fears – that their loved one was being abused by the carers through either neglect or the cruelty of their so-called care. It took all of Laura’s resilience to remember in the face of such pain and misery, that the world was still a beautiful place, filled with good people and loving actions.

After all, Laura was literally living her dream. A degree in media and communications from LSE (the London School of Economics and Political Science), gave her the formal qualifications to enter into the field of journalism, something she had longed for all her young life – from school newsletters, to University newspapers to internships at any media company she could find. She’d worked long and hard and probably would have continued her ascent in the traditional medium of newspapers and magazines…but something was missing.

Bringing justice through the written word held a degree of satisfaction, or course, but if there was one thing that Laura loved even more than rolling up her sleeves and getting to the truth of a mystery – it was the toe-curling, dramatic pleasure of the REVEAL!!! And yes, she may have read and watched too much Agatha Christie and Sherlock – but give a girl a little credit – it was better than binging the friggin’ Vampire Diaries on Netflix.

So when the opportunity came along to apply for the position of a researcher on Horizons (a show where not only could she investigate the forgotten truth, but actually be present when the guilty parties realised they hadn’t gotten away with it), it was no choice at all in the end. She left her national press job (she had gotten a few bylines by then, nothing front page, but the path for getting there was well tried and tested), took a career step sideways and a little bit backwards, being happy to play the long game.

Her favourite lecturer at LSE used to say, “ _Remember, your career is a marathon, Laura, not a sprint”,_ during their catchups. Dr Peggy Churchill was revered amongst the faculty members and Laura felt privileged to be placed in her tutor group…. she was just so delightfully down-to-earth and nice (!) on top of being a gifted teacher. Laura had motherly feelings towards her for her entire University tenure. Her own history left her with a gaping void where her mother used to be, and so despite her unspoken resolution to be emotionally self sufficient, she was always going to be drawn like a magnet to someone like Peggy.

Thank goodness Laura remained in London after graduation, so she was easily able to maintain an evolving friendship with her. They would meet monthly for a lunch date and Laura cherished their time together.   _These days, you can have multiple careers, think about where you want to be, and don’t worry about chasing each and every promotion and getting it as quickly as possible. It will be meaningless if you don’t try to pursue what you love to do…._

So after swallowing a teeny bit of pride and getting through a somewhat gruelling interview process (seriously, how many people worked for that bloody show?) and in depth background checks, Laura found herself assigned to Elizabeth Cochrane as a junior researcher on Horizons, a current affairs TV programme that aired on primetime TV and was renowned for analysis on a wide variety of subjects, investigative work on cases of corruption, plus in depth interviews with key public figures of interest.

Elizabeth was a powerhouse and a semi national treasure. Formerly a foreign correspondent specialising in the Middle East and terrorism, she joined Horizons in 2008 and had so far spearheaded 40+ documentaries, receiving awards left, right and centre for her thoughtful filmmaking. Laura was thrilled beyond measure when she was paired with her and considered her decades of experience a privilege to witness up close and learn from.  

Likewise, in the 2 years Laura had worked for Horizons, Elizabeth considered Laura her protégé and someone she could increasingly rely on. No small thing for someone like her, who had attracted sycophants and enemies during her long and varied career. A veteran at 62, she knew to pay extra attention to the next generation of filmmakers and journalists to ensure her legacy (whatever it was) would continue. It was very important to her that it included smart and tenacious women. She sincerely believed that women should always champion other women, and didn’t understand why some held a misguided notion that a younger woman should find it as hard as she did when starting out, like it was some twisted rite of passage.  

Even with Elizabeth’s subtle guiding hand, it was challenging and the hours were long, but it was important work and Laura loved every second.   Well…except this very second and the next 864,000 seconds – because Laura Hollis was going to make her morning brew and step onto her fourth storey balcony to gaze upon the morning mist across the river Thames and its river boats, and then she was going to get ready, head to Paddington Station and travel home to her father’s house for Christmas. At that point, she was going to sit on the sofa, consult The Radio Times, recharge her batteries and eat everything in sight, just as the Good Lord intended.

She had a feeling 2017 had a lot in store for her.

Bless her little cotton socks with fluffy rabbits. She didn’t have a clue just how much.


	2. Come, Tell Me How You Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: So this chapter is more of building out the world in which Laura exists, including the people who are most likely to orbit around her. I know it’s slow going at times. I will start to pick it up a bit after this chapter
> 
> 2: Chapter Headings from now on will be borrowed from Agatha Christie novels
> 
> 3\. The Raksha Group does not exist, but I may have borrowed the idea of how it operates based on an amalgamation of a few real life companies
> 
> 4\. Quote regarding Raksha is from The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling

Laura scraped her spoon one last time across the bottom of the sundae glass and sat back against the cushions. A final sip of the baileys and dwindling ice cubes, and she was oh so done (cue small delicate burp under cover of hand).

“Sleep time now?” She yawned and stretched her legs out under the table.

Amused, the man sitting opposite her grinned. “Dude, you are so predictable. Ow!” He rubbed his shin, mock glaring at her across the small wooden table with its Christmas pudding themed salt and pepper shakers.

Laura smiled back at him. “Shut up, Kirsch. Hate you.” She blew a kiss at him. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she glanced at her watch. Nearly 2pm. It was New Year’s Eve and the local pub near her father’s house was getting a little busier, but it was nothing compared to how it would get by the evening. Laura and Kirsch had met at midday to be sure of a table.

It had been just the two of them catching up over food and draft local beer. Sherman Hollis had stayed at home whilst Laura met with her childhood best friend for lunch. Not that he wouldn’t have been welcome to come with her and Kirsch, but Laura’s father was busy cooking up a tapas storm for himself and his daughter tonight, to ring in the New Year in a culinary smorgasbord.

Laura could have done without another mountain of food, but it was tradition for the Hollis father and daughter to have nibbles and play games of ever escalating conflict until the clock struck midnight. At that point, truce was always declared, however reluctantly.   Many things had changed over the years, including the games played – once the Nintendo Wii came long, the conflict sometimes resulted in broken windows and chipped furniture (the Hollis’ played for keeps) – but not this tradition, and Laura wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

“So little nerd. Have you swiped right for anyone lately?” Kirsch had learnt his lesson by now and kept his legs well away from the diminutive girl.

“Ow!” (His arms however, were still resting on the table.) “We need to work on your anger management skills, little dude”.

Laura laughed and touched his arm. “Sorry. And you know dating is not something I’ve had a huge amount of time for lately. It’s actually been nice not to have the distraction or even the guilt with having to work so much. Also – who says I’m on Tinder?”

Kirsch raised his eyebrows. “Er… Danny?”

“Danny! What the hell!”

Kirsch quickly glanced around at the bar staff who had looked in their direction at the outburst. “No big deal, she’s on Tinder too and thought it was kind of funny that she saw your profile seeing as you guys didn’t really work out.”

Laura frowned. All right it’s not like she had an acrimonious split with Danny last year, in fact after the first awkward few months over winter, they start seeing each other again as friends. BUT she still thought it was kind of weird to have your ex-girlfriend have knowledge of your dating life without you being the one to disclose it. _Bloody technology these days_.  

Kirsch looked slightly worried as he reached forward and touched her shoulder. “You’re not mad are you? Sure she can be way too amped about stuff, including you – but you guys were together for a couple of years and she’s still a bro I like talking to. To be honest, whenever I’ve seen her lately, she’s so much more chilled then she used to be. I figure you two just sharpened each other’s corners more than smoothed them out.”

Laura knew she shouldn’t be surprised at the insight. Kirsch might have sounded like he spent too much time memorising the plot of American Pie, but one of the things she loved best about him was that he was incredibly instinctive and always wanted to see the best about people. He was right, Danny and Laura made sense for a little while, but together they were like a saucepan on a slow simmer, gradually brought to the boil. They tried for months to make it work, but were both heartbroken and relieved when they mutually agreed to separate, to preserve their friendship.

“I’m not mad.” An eyebrow raise. “Honestly! I haven’t logged into that app for 6 months and didn’t realise she was on there. Does she really need Tinder?” Laura continued incredulously. “Danny meets so many people at her publishing company, and then she also plays netball twice a week. Seriously, if that girl can’t get a date, there isn’t much hope for the rest of us.”

Kirsch sat back again, happy. “Don’t ask me. Maybe she’s just keeping her options open.” He got to his feet. “I’ll just go pay the tab.”

As Laura watched him make his way to the bar, she was distracted by a buzzing noise from her handbag.   Pulling out her Blackberry, she saw a message from Liz. _Hey kiddo, give me a call when you get back from the sticks. I’ve got one of those “opportunities” for you…_ _J. Nothing bad – you’ll love it. And if you don’t, you should just lie to my face and say you do. Happy New Year!_

Laura blinked. With a monumental effort – she slowly put the device away. Two more days at home and she wasn’t about to let anything or anyone distract from that. Even though she was dying of curiosity to know what that message was all about. Wait one cotton-picking minute, how did her Blackberry get in her hand again? She thinned her lips and shook her head quickly, admonishing herself. _Bad Laura, bad_. This time she zipped the bag up.

When Kirsch arrived back at their table, Laura was already standing, pulling on her coat, gloves and hat. “All cool, little dude?”

“All cool, big dude. All cool. Let’s Gerard Depardieu.”

 

 *************************************************************

 

Two days and a serious case of RSI ( _damn you tennis game on Wii sports_ ) later, Laura boarded her eastbound train back to Paddington. She’d said her farewells to her father, who was already diarising his next visit to London, and Kirsch, although the latter was in the process of moving into a flat share only a mile away from her with a couple of people he worked with. Sarah Jane and Natalie, like Kirsch, had landed small parts in a play running at the Jermyn Street Theatre in the West End, and living in London, whilst expensive, helped them enormously with auditions for other shows.

She sent a quick email to Liz, announcing her impending return, whilst she sat on the train listening to a playlist called “January Boosters” on her phone. The train was busy, full of people still looking slightly hungover and with the sort of flat, grumpy expression that was typical of the first days in the New Year.   Leaning back against the seat and making her head comfortable against the window, she closed her eyes, happy to doze for the remaining hour-long train journey.

It was not to be. The music cut out as her phone starting to ring in her inner ear headphones. She clicked the microphone button without looking to see who was calling.

“Happy New Year, Laura!”

“Liz! Happy New Year! Did you have a nice break with the family?” Laura knew her boss had spent the Christmas break with her daughter and son-in-law.

“Wonderful. Long walks with the dogs, re-reading a couple of my favourite books, catching up on some sleep. I felt very spoilt.” Laura smiled – she absolutely knew that although Liz meant every word she said, she also would have been missing the work she was so passionate about, proven by the mysterious text message a couple of days ago.

“I can hear you laughing at me, Laura.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Hmmm, well, enough with the pleasantries, pleasant though they may be – can you come in a little early tomorrow morning? Say 8am? I’d like to catch you up ahead of the team briefings. Oh, and if you have a bit of time this evening? Have a little read up of Raksha Group. Get familiar with the parent company and an idea of its subsidiaries, revenues, public opinion, the board… that sort of thing.”

Laura thought about it. The name was familiar.   “Is that the shipping company?”

“Sort of. That’s probably its most well known area of operations, but it has several quite profitable diversifications. I’d just like to get your initial read on it if you have time tonight... Laura? Laura?”

Laura looked around to see the train travelling through the outskirts of the capital. “Sorry, Liz. Signal isn’t too good as we’re nearing Paddington.”

“Ok, well that’s fine – I think we’re done anyway. See you tomorrow, little one.” Click. Laura’s phone auto-switched her headphones back to music and her shoulders relaxed back into her seat.

Hmmm.   Care homes to multi-national conglomerates? Well, this job was nothing if not unexpected.

 

*********************************************************

 

Five hours later, Laura sat on her favourite armchair, a glass of an organic merlot in one hand, a notepad with a mess of scribbles in the other, and her laptop on the coffee table in front.

She now knew the variety of subsidiaries that Raksha Group had acquired and controlled (28 of them), ranging from transport (shipping and aviation) to real estate, and a growing investment in renewable energies. It’s London headquarters was the largest of 25 locations worldwide, spread over North and South America, Continental Europe, Asia, the Middle East and North Africa. 

It was a relatively young company, founded 20 years ago in the shipping business, and expanding into other industries in the last 15 years. Presumably because of its modest age, the recorded controversies were not widely publicised and fairly predictable. Accusations of bad labour practices at different shipping ports, suspicions around foreign investors buying into large real estate deals, bad press around tourism being built up at the expense of local agricultural land.   All things being equal, any company with thousands of employees, operating in a global market, in a diverse set of industries, would have a few bad seeds, or garnered similar propaganda in the press. 

Interestingly enough to Laura though, was the name Raksha itself.

 

_“And it is I, Raksha [The Demon], who answers. The man’s cub is mine, Lungri–mine to me! He shall not be killed. He shall live to run with the Pack and to hunt with the Pack; and in the end, look you, hunter of little naked cubs–frog-eater– fish-killer–he shall hunt thee!”_

 

Letitia Morgan, the Chair and CEO of Raksha Group had been with the company since it’s founding, and nepotism was clearly a thing with this lady. 3 of her children made up a core part of the Executive Board. Laura looked down at her notes.

  1. Leitita Morgan – Chair and CEO (Mother)
  2. Matska Belmonde – Executive Vice Chair (daughter – adopted at 8 years old)
  3. Carmilla Karnstein – Senior Executive Board Member and co-COO (daughter, biological?)
  4. William Luce – Senior Executive Board Member and co-COO (son, biological?)



She’d heard of family businesses, but this one was striking due to the female centric core. Laura speculated that this company alone must have made up a significant proportion of the women holding executive board positions on the FTSE 100.

The Wikipedia pages for each of the family members varied in length and detail. Clearly some were happier than others to be in the public eye, or had done enough personal interviews with media outlets that a timeline of their lives could be constructed to a certain degree.

Letitia Morgan as was to be expected, had a fairly lengthy page, Laura had to scroll down a few times to read it all. Pretty benign stuff – place of birth, education, a few personal details, one marriage that seemed to have ended in the 90s, the three children, key milestones about Raksha Group and then the remainder taken up with the her/the company’s focus on philanthropy and charitable endeavours. There was mention of a rumoured company restructuring a year ago, but nothing had come of it, the share price had fluctuated a little bit as a result, but otherwise remained relatively stable in the last 12 months. Laura thought the contents of the page (or lack thereof) spoke volumes about Ms Morgan’s unwilling desire to be the public face of the firm.

That particular role most definitely belonged to Matska Belmonde. Her page was lengthy as well, but unlike her mother’s, there was a fair number of photographs; some professional portraits, others of her speaking at engagements, business awards, industry panels and the like. Laura stared at one particular picture. A closeup of Belmonde, ankles neatly crossed and sitting on a black leather armchair, the caption reading _A Conversation with Matska Belmonde at_ _Saïd Business School_ , _August 2015,_ gesturing at an unseen audience. She looked sleek, gorgeous, powerful and born to wear a power suit. The look in her eyes made it seem like she held many secrets, but had elected to share a few.   Something about her made Laura feel slightly uneasy, like a label itching under your clothes.

With the kind of skimming-the-surface research Laura was doing, there was much less information available on the other two siblings. From the pictures available, William Luce (the youngest of the three) looked like your stereotypical businessman. Sharp, slicked back haircut (bleh), sharp suits, sharp expression. Laura wasn’t entirely sure if she’d want to meet him in a dark alley based off of them, but then again, as she clicked through Google images, there he was laughing, with floppy hair, shorts and a salmon coloured polo shirt at a charity event held on a boat.

From the looks of it, he seemed to be laughing at his companion, who had a fairly stern expression on her face, although the look in her eyes was that of someone long-suffering, rather than actually angry. Laura peered closely at the image. It was the middle sister, Carmilla Karnstein.

Attractive, like the rest of them, sharp features ( _strong features_ , her Nana would have said) slim build, eyebrows honed with precision. She wondered what her story was – there were secrets untold about that girl too. Laura checked her notes – 27. Twenty-seven? How the hell did anyone get on a board in their 20s? Nepotism only went so far, but she guessed the 3 heirs apparent must have been learning about business since they were children.

She peered even closer. _What was that in her left hand?_ Her right hand held a flute of something bubbly, but her left, furthest away from her brother, was held down, tucked slightly behind her back and appeared to be… dripping? _Was that a sponge? Was her brother about to get a cold surprise in the face?_ She chuckled, and clicked through the images to see if she could get the money shot. Sadly not…although hang on… this picture showed William less full of chuckles and in a black polo shirt at the same event talking to someone else now. Carmilla was a few metres away, leaning on the railing of the boat with a smirk on her face. Laura put two and two together and assumed she had come up with the right scenario. _Prankster siblings… cute._

So, she surmised, the Raksha Group appeared to have a healthy bottom line, a not particularly risky portfolio of businesses, very little comparative bad press, a female centric leadership and a significant focus on philanthropy and charity.  The business outlook for 2017 was cautious but optimistic according to the FT. Laura was impressed.   And that to her meant there was more to it. You don’t get that successful without a few skeletons along the way. She wondered what had caught Liz’s eye.

She switched off her laptop, picked up the empty wine glass and placed it in the dishwasher, then headed over to her fish tank resting on the sideboard.

“Night guys.” She whispered at the small shoal of cardinal tetras swimming lazily back and forth, then clicked off the aquarium light and headed to bed.

 

**********************************************************

 

At 7.30am, Laura made a quick stop at her favourite coffee shop on Cowcross street on the way to work. Tiptoeing her way through Smithfield market at that time of morning was kind of nice, but also kind of gross – she had to make sure not to step in any mini rivulets of blood from the large offcuts of meat that were brought in en masse on large wooden crates. She liked the bustle of activity though – sidestepping around the men and women in white protective clothing with caps and mini forklift trucks. It was strangely magical knowing that the market had existed here for nearly 1000 years. She loved this part of London. 

Another 5 minute brisk walk and sipping the last of her sweetened chai tea latte, she swiped her access card at reception in the Horizons main office and headed to the lifts for the 3rd floor.

“Laura!”

She looked up and smiled. Light reddish curls, lots of them, were fast approaching, sprouting out of layers of fleece and wool. They intriguingly bounced in a way that seem to defy the laws of gravity.

“Perry!” Laura awkwardly hugged her friend and work colleague, trying her best not to spill any tea on her. “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year to you too! Ooo, the lift is here.” The women made their way inside and headed up. Perry started unwinding the scarf from around her neck. 

“You’re in early, Per?”

“I suppose I am – but I couldn’t sleep knowing there would be a mountain of emails to get through - even from over Christmas. Starting January with a backlog would be… unacceptable.”  Perry shuddered. Laura just laughed and linked arms with the redhead. She knew how hard Perry worked as the primary researcher for all things related to the European Union and Europe. The woman spoke about 5 languages and never did anything halfway.

Biting her lip, Laura hesitated, then threw caution to the wind. “Do much cooking over the holidays?” She hated the obviously hopeful tone to her voice. Perry side-eyed her slyly.

“Maybe.”

“Any… sweet potato brownie-related leftovers?”

“Maybe.”

Ding! The lift doors opened. Perry took pity on the smaller woman. “Here. “ She dug a Tupperware box out of her Mary Poppins handbag as they made their way down the corridor. 

“Yes!” Laura fist-pumped in excitement. Playing it cool now forgotten, she managed to prise the box open with one hand and extracted a brownie. “Mmm, your familshh ish so lucky to eat your cookshing over the holidaysh…”

“Don’t eat with your mouth full, dear.” Perry produced a tissue out of thin air. _Maybe she really was Mary Poppins_ , Laura mused. “And it wasn’t only the family.” The redhead blushed.

Laura raised her eyebrows and paused mid stride. “What is this?” She waved a circle around Perry’s face.

“What?”

“All of this…. twitchiness.”

“I absolutely don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Laura shook her head and slung her bag over the back of her chair, dropping the now empty latte cup in the recycling bin. She held her fingertips up to her temples. “You cannot lie to me…all before me must speak the truth to mine ears.” She recited with closed eyes, in an attempt to sound spooky. 

Perry rolled her eyes and shook her head as she sat down at a desk a few feet away.   “Laura Eileen Hollis.” A sigh. “If you must know – I caught up with an old friend on Christmas Eve as well.”

Laura narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at Perry. “Do tell.”

“Nothing to tell! We were close once, but I went to study abroad and did a fair bit of travelling after graduation and they stayed here. We lost touch. A few weeks back they got hold of my number from a mutual friend and came over for lunch. We hung out a few more times. End. Of. Story.” 

“Uh huh.”

The office was starting to fill up now, people settling on office chairs, switching on monitors, heading to tea points, smiles and general chatter about the post holiday blues. Laura glanced at the clock on the wall. 7.58am.

A silver blonde head, red-rimmed spectacles perched on top, popped around the pillar next to Laura’s desk.

“Whoa.” Laura jumped and flattened her palm against her chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Elizabeth Cochrane raised a sleek eyebrow and gestured with the ring binder she held. “Good morning to you too. Got a few minutes now?”

Laura nodded and pushed back her chair to stand up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her bag. She looked over at Perry. “We ain’t done here, missy.” Perry waved, already logged on and looking at emails and mostly ignoring her. Laura didn’t miss seeing Perry’s leg anxiously jiggling up and down under the desk. _Ha! My investigative nose never fails me!!!_ _I rule!!!_

She quickly caught up with Liz as they made their way down the corridor to a meeting room.   _How the hell does that woman have the time this early in the morning, to look that good?_    Silver blouse, knee length white skirt, perfectly coiffed hair, crystal blue eyes and impossibly sculpted cheekbones with a hint of blush. If Laura wasn’t already in awe of her, the attention, _no the trust_ , Laura thought to herself, that Elizabeth commanded on screen, or in any room really, would have caused it.

They sat down together in one of the smaller meeting rooms and Liz slid the small sign on the outside across to read “occupied”.

“Thanks for coming in early on your first day back, kiddo. If there had been more time, I would have just eased you into this a little bit later, but the team briefings start at 9am and this will be brought up. I didn’t want you to be surprised.”

Laura was still a little confused. It was not usual for her to have a heads up ahead of rest of the Horizons team at the main bi-weekly briefings. That was, after all, what a team briefing was for. Liz nodded at the look on her face. 

“Couple of things in motion here. It’s January… we’re trying to hit the ground running on as many leads as possible so we can plot out the back half of the year quickly. If we can commit our production costs early, we might be able to come in on budget for a change, something the producers are leaning on us heavily for. Probably in case there is a snap general election and funding gets pulled.  It means a multi-tasking upgrade for next few months though and very little budget to do it on.  

Secondly… you’re ready for a new challenge, darling. I worry for you that I’ll be selfish and keep you to myself. So I want you to run with Raksha Group. Take the lead on the research, the strategy, _the angle_. Develop it. Is it there something there?  If it turns out there is, I want to try you onscreen.”

Laura’s heart started racing, her mouth instantly dry.

“Onscreen?”

Liz snorted, the noise at odds with the Vanessa Redgrave look she had going on.

“Cut the crap, Laura. You’re a natural in front of a camera. It loves you and you know it. I watched those vlog audition tapes.” Laura reddened slightly and nodded modestly.

Liz plucked her glasses from their perch and opened her ringbinder. “The hotline got a call a week ago. Anonymous message at first, nervous caller, the usual. They believe some corporate malfeasance has been taking place, related to the acquisition of their renewable energy business three years ago by Raksha Group. Some irregularities with the accounting have been occurring, and our whistleblower has been asked to sweep it under the rug one too many times. There’s definitely more there that they want to talk about, but they’ve been reluctant to go into much detail.”

“How do we know they’re not a crank? Have we verified any details yet?”

Liz nodded. “They rang back, left a number the next day. I called and got a name out of them eventually, ran a preliminary check. They spent a couple of years based on the Isle of Wight for a time, helping to design wind turbine blades for a new farm out there, but then spent the last three in Austria, working on some new plots in the mountains. Qualifications more than check out.” She extracted a single page from her ringbinder and passed it along to Laura. “Some background details there.”

Laura touched her hand to the page. She’d read it in more detail later.

They spent the next fifteen minutes going over Laura’s understanding of the company based on her short research the previous evening. Liz agreed with Laura’s assessment that it was worth digging into what Laura now called (in her head at least), the Corleone family - but to tread incredibly carefully to ensure her investigation was not shut down before it began by prematurely tipping her hand.

 _At this point, they had nothing._ Laura thought to herself. _No evidence, no motivation, no causal link between unethical behaviour and top management. It was the smooth, calm surface of a body of still water. But so was Enron once. And if nothing came of it? A profile of a successful, female led company was a pretty good story anyway. Yeah, I can make this work._

Wanting to check a few messages and loose ends on some other small open investigations, Laura was grateful they wrapped up with some time to spare ahead of the 9am full team briefings. Picking up her things and opening the door for Liz to walk through, she remembered to ask something.

“The whistleblower? How should I get in touch with them?”

Liz pointed at the piece of paper folded into Laura’s notepad. “Their contact number is on the back of that page I gave you. Good luck, kiddo.”

“What’s their name?”

“Dr LaFontaine. They know to expect your call.”


End file.
